


Starwatcher In The Night (REPOST)

by Fizonafan



Series: The Adventures Of The Crew Of The Starship Draugr [1]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Aromantic OC, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fizonafan/pseuds/Fizonafan
Summary: The Tale of Starwatcher Edward in the time preceding his introduction to his future crewmates, feat. the crew of the Aurora.
Relationships: The Mechanisms Ensemble/Original Character(s), The Mechanisms Ensemble/The Mechanisms Ensemble
Series: The Adventures Of The Crew Of The Starship Draugr [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079570
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyy I'm back! 
> 
> So here's what happened. I got really unhappy with how the original version of this was coming out and so I've gone back through and rewritten the whole thing in third-person, adding bits and bobs here and there as well. I'd really appreciate people taking the time to read it back as I think I've much improved in my writing and ability to characterize the mechs, but I understand if that isn't very interesting. Nonetheless, thank you so much for reading and thank you to all the people who have left comments and kudos on the original post, every notification makes my day!
> 
> I'm dumping all of the chapters now, as well as the continuation of his adventures as part of a series involving some more of The Draugr gang!
> 
> Chapter 1 CW: descriptions of gore, canon-typical violence, swearing.

***  
1  
***  
  
It isn't cold.  
  
The loneliness, that is.  
  
He expected a temperature to be associated.  
  
But no.  
  
It's just sort of, present. An observable weight with no feeling.  
  
Something he didn’t expect to get used to until he did.  
  
At the same moment as the feeling becomes usual, time stops mattering as well. And when he realises his ageing has stopped too, he doesn’t bother to track it, anymore.  
  
So, when he thinks to himself, it's been a while, he doesn't actually know how long that is.  
  
He knows he was born here, raised here. Then the station needed help. Except all those who tried weren’t good enough.   
  
A whole colony and he was the only one.  
  
Although, he did get a bit of help himself to be so.  
  
She just appeared one day. The system had been demanding host after host for long enough that only three survivors remained.  
  
When she offered her solution it just made sense for him to be the one. He was the youngest. He’d last the longest if needed.

Pain.

  
And then.

  
Energy.   
Coursingandpumpingthroughhim. 1000, 10,000, 100,000 meters per second.   
F a s t e r a n d fa st er a n d fas ter and faster and fasterandfaster. 6 million meters per second. His heart no longer simply beats but _vibrates_.  
  
He.  
Can.  
Feel.  
It.  
All.  
  
So, no. It isn't cold.  
  
And the weight.  
  
The load of the power bank strapped and embedded and elongating his spine, wired through and around every nerve. It weighed down his every movement for the first few years, still pangs and pains him.  
  
So now and before and yesterday and tomorrow and always, he does what he was made to do. He keeps the system running.  
  
He doesn’t know what happened to the others. The shuttle the doctor had arrived in was gone when he first woke up, so he assumes she abandoned him. Whether it was because she wrongly assumed him dead, he can’t say. He doesn’t care. ~~He does.~~  
  
There is nothing here but the void of space outside the station. The sparking, shifting, burning, dying light of stars that he watched and watches and will watch forever.  
  
He marvels at their splendour, the only thing that changes in this place, because neither he or the station ever does. It's a sight he cannot grow tired of.  
  
He fills his minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia with noting the positions and patterns of these flickering illuminations.  
  
As hobbies go, it's comfortingly time consuming. It becomes his usual.  
  
***  
  
Sometimes, he decides he wants to feel.  
  
He pads through the empty halls bare foot, the thrumming beat of the system's scanning, receiving, processing and delivery automation passing through his ~~soul~~ soles.  
  
Sometimes he decides he’d rather not.  
  
When he realises the absolute zero of space can’t kill him, that in fact nothing he could find can, it proves the weight of protective gear is unnecessary. The quiet of clinging to the exterior, a single finger grip keeping him from drifting (and he’s thought about it, thinks about it) is possibly the most comfortable position he has found, finds, will find himself.  
  
It's as far as he can get. The calmest the station's continuous crackle can be.  
  
***  
  
It's almost like he Feels the stars change when the ship approaches. He Knows it is here.  
  
Its movement is obvious, jarring in its speed against the regularity of his records. This isn't a travel route. Nothing but the cargo comes here. No sentience but him.  
  
But they did.  
  
He doesn’t remember how to signal it. The panic fills his mind and seizes his permanently racing heart when he considers someone getting so close but still too far.  
  
What if they don't notice?  
  
He didn’t need to worry. They're coming straight for him.  
  
With something to track, time comes back to him. Almost. It takes them 3......weeks?   
  
They send the first signal, thank Gods.  
  
They don't seem to expect a reply.  
  
The voice that comes through on the second message is.  
  
Pretty.  
  
Decidedly masculine but, nonetheless.  
  
Pretty.  
  
If he thinks about it a bit too much, well that's nobody’s business but his own.  
  
He doesn’t exactly have a metric for his next observation either. The only other ships he had seen were the clunky, heavy beasts that delivered and distributed the cargo.  
  
Nonetheless.  
  
The ship is pretty too.  
  
One more week after the messages begin, she sends a pod with three crew members and they dock in the cargo port on floor seven.  
  
It’s been too long, and he has forgotten what presentable was. He wonders whether he should cover his spine. He does, and his coat bulges over it, singed at the collar. He puts on shoes.  
  
He waits and taps his toe nervously as a cacophony of muffled shouting precedes the group’s emergence from their pod.  
  
They are... Eclectic.  
  
Scarred and pockmarked, and are those wings?  
  
His self-consciousness rapidly flies out the window.  
  
The man speaks up.  
  
“Look, I’ll cut to the chase kid. You seen a lady round here recently? About yay high, carries a walking cane, might be calling herself a doctor?” His voice carries a gravely and musical quality to it, complimented by his stage-like gesticulations.  
  
The description is immediately recognizable.  
  
“I’m sorry,” He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, still reeling from the company. “She left a long time ago, it’s just me here.”  
  
The winged woman squints at him and his already thrumming nerves fire up under the scrutiny, small bolts sizzling around his neck. The smaller woman approaches him.  
  
“Would you mind?” She reaches and gestures at the disturbance. “You’ve got something…”  
  
He catches her meaning and pulls the collar of his coat aside to reveal the electrified, metallic protrusion embedded in him.  
  
She looks back and stares down the man who sighs theatrically after a moment. “Fine, yes, okay, this is your stray for the century.”  
  
***  
  
He doesn’t know what to pack. The man speaks up from the doorway.  
  
“Kid those clothes aren’t really gonna suit ‘the vibe’ we’ve got going on anyway.” He steps into the room proper and picks up the standard issue jumpsuit laid across the bed. “Don’t fuss, we’ll get you sorted at the next market port. Knickknacks and keepsakes are the go, aight?”  
  
Right then. He gets to work packing up his maps.  
  
The pod doesn't have belts, hell it doesn't have seats. That doesn't seem to bother this motley crew.  
  
The man punches the return button and...  
  
“Wait, I don’t even know your names?”  
  
The man glances between the pod’s inhabitants. “No, I guess you don’t,” he replies with a grin, turning back to the aft porthole.  
  
“Oh, come on Jonny,” the winged lady says, slapping him on the shoulder. She turns back to the newcomer, “I’m Raphaella, I handle the science department. This is Ivy, she’s in charge of archiving,” she gestures at the other woman who waves politely. “And this ass is Jonny, our first mate.”  
  
Just as she finishes Jonny makes a noise in protest but before he can finish his thought the pod re-docks with a jerk.  
  
Noises outside, voices, a suspiciously gun-like bang, and then the hatch opens.  
  
There are five more… people waiting in the airlock.  
  
Jonny takes over from Raphaella’s introductions, counting out each name on his fingers as he calls them, “We’ve got Drumbot Brian, pilot,” the large, robotic looking man tips his hat, “Ashes O’Reilly, quartermaster, and Gunpowder Tim, our master at arms,” the person in a neat shirt and tie nods, followed by a casual salute from the pretty, long-haired man on their left.  
  
“Then there’s ‘Baron’ Marius von Raum, our doctor, although he’s neither of those things”, Marius grins despite Jonny’s words, “And Nastya Rasputina, engineering”, the bespectacled woman with an array of tools hang from her belt gives a shy smile.  
  
Going from no people to eight is rather overwhelming for the newcomer, but the only observation that sticks in his head is how pretty they all are.  
  
Jonny’s still holding up one finger though and then looks up and around, “Where’s the Toy?”  
  
A voice pipes up from the floor and far too close to the newcomer for his comfort.  
  
“Right Here!” A wooden man in a soldier’s uniform calls, although its face doesn’t move. Its uniform has a bullet shaped hole in its shoulder. “Nastya Shot Me Because… Well, She Didn’t Say But, It Must Have Been For A Good Reason!” Nastya shrugs and the others seem to take that as good enough reasoning.  
  
The man(?) addresses the newcomer directly, “They Call Me The Toy Soldier!” It gives him a sharp salute. “Well Chap, We’re All Introduced But We Haven’t Heard Your Name! What Can We Call You?”  
  
The newcomer smiles at its diction and opens his mouth to reply. Really, it’s such a novelty to be asked something as simple as a name after so long without speaking to anyone. “I’m-  
  
Nothing follows.  
  
Apparently too long.  
  
He forgot.  
  
***  
  
He settles in… Quickly? The rest of the crew doesn’t seem to keep track of time either. At least, not linearly.  
  
The noise is…  
  
A lot.  
  
And the violence.  
  
*  
  
Nastya gives him a room and Ivy gets him comfortable with uploading and digitally organizing his maps.  
  
Ivy keeps him company the most. The two of them bond over their respective academic hyper fixations. She teaches him a lot of words to describe what he experiences and has experienced.   
  
She is the quietest, the easiest to just have around.  
  
It only makes sense for him to take up a navigation role. Well almost, seeing as there’s already a pilot on board. It’s really just more cartography.  
  
And Ivy finally gives him a name to go along with it.  
  
Starwatcher Edward.  
  
Jonny calls him Eddy almost immediately. He shoots the first mate dead a couple times. It seems to be the only way he accepts affection anyway.  
  
It grows on Edward. The name that is, but the murder too.  
  
Somehow the nickname morphs and they’ll add on Starboy depending on their level of inebriation.  
  
*  
  
To that point though, Tim teaches him how to actually shoot. The vicious light behind his eyes as he wields his weapons just makes him,  
  
Prettier.  
  
Hmm.  
  
Anyway.  
  
He gives Edward a taser at Jonny's suggestion and calls it ironic.  
  
That's okay though, he’s not sure where he is with permanently murdering mortals yet.  
  
*  
  
Ashes warms to him quickly, and oh, that's a pun isn't it? He absorbs their humour just as fast and spits it back at them and everyone else, sarcasm dripping from his tongue like motor oil.  
  
They’re the one who asks whether he’ll join the band, because apparently that’s what they do. Journeying through the stars to collect and tell tales as songs. Edward just tells them he can't play anything.  
  
*  
  
That’s apparently not a good enough excuse so Ashes enlists Brian’s help. It's him that teaches Edward his first instrument in the end.  
  
“Ya see Starwatcher, whenever we record our albums for compact discs and the like I really enjoy playing a couple instruments. I mean it seems a waste not to if I know how, and the music sounds so good with the added layers.”  
  
Edward nods absentmindedly, wandering the room and letting his fingers brush the various instruments.  
  
“But that means it sounds different when we play live. Long story short, I figure I can get you good at say, the drum box and banjo then we can trade ‘em whenever we need to sing?”  
  
Edward thinks to himself that he isn’t too keen on singing just yet but agrees anyway. Brian is quite a good teacher, it turns out, and Edward picks up the banjo with ease, although keeping a steady beat turns out to be a bit tougher. This leads to a bit of good-natured exasperation from his teacher. He’s just glad the Drumbot isn’t on EjM or he’s not sure if he’d survive the lesson.  
  
Part way through one of their rougher drum sessions Ashes returns. “You’re not working him too hard are you Bri?”  
  
Brian ends up explaining the situation, and Ashes goes full quartermaster mode, telling him to cool off and that they’ll sort it out.  
  
“What’s the problem starboy?”  
  
Edward sighs in defeat. “I can’t keep up!” He exclaims. “My hands shake too much, and I end up hitting the box wrong or twice or something else and Brian is literally perfect and-”  
  
Ashes cuts him off before he can spiral any longer. ‘Hey kid it’s fine. It’s just not for you, that’s okay.” Edward starts to protest but they stop him again, “And don’t worry about performances. We got by before you, any way you can help is good enough okay?”  
  
Edward is still avoiding their eyes petulantly, so they change tact. “Do you still want to be able to play two instruments?”  
  
At that he looks up. Ashes grins triumphantly, “Well, we’ve got a spare bass around here somewhere, you’re already pretty good at banjo, right?”  
  
With his mood sufficiently improved, a new lesson is begun.  
  
*  
  
Nearer to the start of his voyage is when Edward spent the most time with Marius and Raphaella. They take notes and scans of what the good doctor did to him. Marius practices his psychoanalysis.  
  
Raphaella spends some time holding increasingly flammable items up to him to see how volatile his sparks are. In the end, they’re actually rather underwhelming results.   
  
The first time she goes (unintentionally) flying, her unexpectedly sturdy mechanism jolting violently from the shock, it just makes her laugh. The next five times not so much. She learns to handle Edward with gloves when he gets a bit too excited or nervous or really anything Too Much.  
  
*  
  
It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to realise who's been whispering to him. What has? No, definitely a who.  
  
Aurora is kind. It's overwhelming really how much she cares. The others express surprise the first time someone catches Edward talking with her, his feet bare again, palms pressed to the walls. This thrum is different from his old home. She is warm.  
  
Nastya goes cold, so he asks Aurora about her.  
  
And.  
  
Oh!  
  
Jealousy?  
  
Of course, when he realises, he apologises, explains his intentions, and moves on, the two of them somehow closer from the conflict. Now when he talks to Aurora and someone catches him, it becomes a bit of a joke.  
  
“Stop trying to steal her girlfriend!” They’ll cry.  
  
*  
  
And then there's The Toy Soldier.  
  
It's? Interesting. Edward never quite understands Jonny's animosity toward it, but maybe the Starwatcher is just enthralled by its angelic voice. He apparently gets over the unnerving feeling its unchanging face gives everyone faster than the others. He pins it up to the period of time he spent entertaining himself on the empty station by drawing smiles on the walls and doors. He enjoys its tea parties but learns quickly that a lot of the drinks it makes aren’t actually tea. More often than not the cups will just be empty.  
  
“I Enjoy Playing Pretend! Jonny Says It’s a Bit Of A Waste If I Can’t Drink It Anyway, So Empty Cups Are Good Enough!”  
  
Short of Ivy, it might be Edward's favourite crew mate to spend his nothing time with.  
  
***  
  
The time comes for his first performance.  
  
“We'll give you an easy crowd,” Tim says with a manic grin as he binds the hostages tightly.  
  
And then Edward Understands.  
  
The energy of the stage is different to the energy of his body, but it meshes well, and he finds himself floating through the performance, riding the wave of Jonny's manic anger, Ashes' calm and collected sarcasm, The Toy Soldier's vibrant flamboyance.  
  
He lets his sparks fly.  
  
It makes their noise easier.  
  
Apparently, this crowd is responsive enough to live.  
  
***  
  
It's not long (or is it?) till Jonny comes searching for the newest crewmate. And Edward knows why of course; the band needs more tales to tell.  
  
It's just.  
  
He hasn’t told anyone yet.  
  
He almost knows why.  
  
The loneliness was his for so long. Giving it to someone else?  
  
At his hesitance Jonny does the one thing he knows how, takes the inexperienced cartographer planet-side, and gets him hammered at the first bar they find.  
  
One of his famed rampages later, and the two of them are locked up in a too small cell with murder (and cannibalism) charges, hangovers to deal with, and too much time on their hands.  
  
Jonny picks sinews from between his teeth and stares the Starwatcher down who jolts and fizzles under his gaze.  
  
“Plenty of time for a story kid.”  
  
It’s later as they’re finally getting back to the ship, Tim having lost the bet and coming to break them out, that Edward says, “You know, I would have come around eventually.”  
  
Jonny laughs. “It was the experience I was after as well. And you’ve spent far too long cooped up with those maps and your music lessons. You needed a run out too.”  
  
***  
  
In between travelling and continuing his cartography (and really, it's quite a struggle when the stars aren't moving at the same speed, or are they?), the first mate and the starwatcher write the song.  
  
No one asks, but he contemplates whether this will be the first one he sings.  
  
One evening, afternoon, dawn he goes to Ivy.  
  
“What do you think? Should I do it?” She doesn't sing either is the thing, and he trusts her opinion to be fair.  
  
“Just go with your gut,” she replies with her usual vacant smile.  
  
Well, that was unexpected.  
  
Nastya doesn't sing either.  
  
She says the same thing.  
  
Hmm.  
  
He decides to consult Aurora too and Tim finds him splayed on the hallway floor, deep in conversation and not at all present in his body, besides the ever-present crackle over and under his skin.  
  
Tim sits and waits for the two of them to finish.  
  
Aurora, amused, doesn't alert Edward for another hour, just to see how long he'll stay.  
  
_Starwatcher, you have a guest._  
  
He shoots up at her words, apologizing profusely.  
  
Tim just smiles.  
  
Oh.  
  
Hmm.  
  
Right.  
  
“You’ve got a good voice starboy. It’d be nice if we could hear it more,” and he stands and walks away.  
  
***  
  
He sings it.  
  
It's just him in the beginning. His voice ringing through the microphone and over the silently attentive crowd. Telling his quiet story.  
  
Then, a lilting flute tune on the second verse.  
  
Gently plucked guitar strings soon after.  
  
Slowly, slowly the others join the song, instruments and voices rising.  
  
And then the heat in his nerves is drowned by the warmth of his new family's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 CW: Poor self care (specifically eating habits), Addiction-like behaviour from an immortal, canon-typical violence, swearing.

***  
2  
***  
  
It's Marius that comes knocking when the boredom breaks him. Apparently sitting in the same uninhabited solar system for... how long has it been?  
  
Oh. Two months apparently. Edward wasn’t even sure anyone kept track of that kind of thing.  
  
“Normally we wouldn’t but I got so bored I asked Nastya and then she asked Aurora.”  
  
“All so you could come complain to me with accurate dates?”  
  
He grins and nods.  
  
“Oh, but Marius, it's such an interesting system! It's quaternary!” He fumbles about for a moment, holding up one of his semi-completed maps. “The gravitational effect on the movement of the stars is so beautiful! And why weren’t you all just in stasis any-”  
  
Marius stops him by literally slapping and hand over his mouth. “Alright yes hush. That’s adorable and all but can we go now?”  
  
Edward sighs and complies, gently setting aside the section of map he was working on and shuffles through the sheaves of nearby systems until he finds something that he thinks is sufficiently interesting for his crewmates enjoyment.  
  
When he finally shows the doctor where he has decided on, Marius bursts into hysterics immediately. He's incomprehensible for a moment but Edward manages to make out Tim's name somewhere in the mess.   
  
He crouches down and lays a hand on the smooth metal of the hull, gently asking Aurora to wake up, and gives her the directions.  
  
Marius doesn't deign to explain his reaction, but Edward doesn't bother asking any more. He reasons with himself, what could possibly be so interesting about Earth?  
  
***  
  
He really doesn't know how he went so long locked away with his ink and paper. Usually, the steady increase of his tremor would have sent him searching for sustenance a few weeks in but apparently Tim's advice with the rubber band was enough to stretch the time.   
  
Interesting. He files the skill away as ammunition to use against Ivy and her ever growing exasperation with the cartographer’s insistence on traditional mapping.  
  
When Marius drags him to the common space designated to mealtimes (except sometimes for Jonny. Apparently, a vote was cast long ago that he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near anyone else when his... preferences made themselves known), there is a resounding cheer through the room. They've all been waiting, it seems.  
  
“He lives!” Nastya exclaims, and the raucous laughter soon follows.  
  
She tosses him one of the rehydratable cubes. “Where we headed, Starboy?”  
  
He gives a token grimace at the name but nonetheless informs them all as he crosses the room and drops the cube into its preparation container.  
  
More laughter and a gentle descent into recalled memories but he notices one voice missing and glances back.  
  
He locks eyes with Tim almost immediately, his furrowed expression creasing his ~~handsome~~ face. Edward tilts his head in silent query and approaches the table again with the unnerving smoking of his meal in his hands at the back of his mind.  
  
Apparently too far back. The synthetic container slips from his weak and trembling hands and clatters to the floor. He jumps at the noise and the impact of the landing is too much. His legs give out too.  
  
All of this happens in the space of a few seconds but it's still long enough for Brian and The TS to appear by his sprawled form, Tim and Ivy halfway out of their seats and everyone else falling silent.  
  
The usual background sizzle of Edward’s mechanism makes itself known at a much higher volume, and it clicks that it's probably the only thing keeping him alive right now.  
  
“Woops.”  
  
***  
  
Toy hefts him over its shoulder and doesn't set him down until it gets to the med bay. Despite Edward’s protests, Brian's Order outranks any of his attempts to convince the TS otherwise and he ends up petulantly grumbling that he’s fine for the whole ride.  
  
It's only later when Marius has left him with a supplemental drip and a threat to strap him down that Tim visits.  
  
He smiles ~~that gentle smile that’s starting to make Edward go gooey, so different from his bloodthirsty one~~ and says he figures it's time enough for Eddy to hear his tale.  
  
“You would have heard the song by now, but there’s some things we left out. Jonny always said sacrifices had to be made for a more satisfying narrative.”  
  
Edward nods his understanding and agreement, “He’d said something similar when we were writing mine, although at the time it was more of a comfort. It meant I didn’t have to share everything. I could spin it into something more entertaining and less… Depressing.”  
  
Tim hums noncommittally, and then he tells his truth.  
  
The thing about stories is they’re much more palatable with a coherent narrative. Loss gets glossed over and replaced with the violent joy of war. Relationships mentioned only as motivation for the protagonist. But the truth is much harsher.  
  
When he finishes his story, Edward lets the silence ring for a moment. Then very quietly he asks, “Would you like to go somewhere else?”  
  
Tim is quick to reassure. “No, no it’s fine. But maybe we should go sometime else? Earlier is a good idea, and we’ve got quite a few fans in the beginning of the 21st century.”  
  
Edward agrees without a moment’s hesitation, letting Aurora know about the change of plans.  
  
He reaches out for Tim’s hand where it's resting on the bed beside him. “Thank you for telling me that Tim.”  
  
Tim accepts his hand and entwines their fingers gently, “My pleasure star.”  
  
Oh, that’s a much more pleasant nickname.  
  
***  
  
Jonny insists on more rehearsals once the Starwatcher has recovered, exclaiming, “We can't disappoint our loyal following, now can we?”  
  
Edward is both looking forward to and dreading an audience that actually knows what the band is supposed to sound like. He agrees to the extra sessions immediately, music the only thing that can truly distract him from his maps.  
  
***  
  
The country they end up in is wonderful. Since joining the crew, Edward has found great joy in watching the fleeting mortals in their daily plights wherever they land, and this place just seems to highlight their petty grievances.  
  
Ashes tells him it's called England.  
  
They call everyone together and say there are 3 days before the first gig. Until then, they set the lot of them loose to wander. Apparently, that’s only enough time to stay on this continent, so Jonny, Marius, and Ashes themself immediately head off to Amsterdam. As always, Nastya stays with Aurora and Ivy and Raphaella stay put too. Brian and The Toy Soldier wonder off god knows where.  
  
Before he can think, Tim grabs Edward’s hand and drags him sightseeing, claiming his proficiency as a citizen.  
  
In actuality of course he's from more than a millennium in the future and has probably been here just as much as any other member of the crew.   
  
Edward doesn’t complain.  
  
So yes, the two of them do all the usual tourist things and after the first day and night (and oh this is what nightclubs are) they’re buzzing in a comfortable way from the company and the events and Edward realises he’s actually hungry.  
  
Tim tries taking him to some horrid looking chippy (it's tradition!) but his gaze is drawn to the green building to its left.   
  
“Tim? What’s this?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh yeah that’s a Starbucks, it’s a coffee shop,” he’s already stepping toward the chip shop.  
  
“What’s coffee?”  
  
Tim gives him a squint and pauses, but nonetheless entertains his curiosity. “It’s this drink. Mortals consume it for energy mostly, although some of them drink decaffeinated versions too.”  
  
I mean it's got ‘star’ in the name and they sell energy, if he was expecting the star obsessed and electrically charged fiend to go anywhere else, he really doesn't know Eddy well now does he?  
  
Tim sighs in defeat at Edward’s excitement and leads him in. As he orders the staff give both of them Looks of mild terror.  
  
They take their seats and wait patiently for their drinks. Or, mostly patiently, Edward is visibly quivering with anticipating and hunger. As the cups are placed before them, he scoops it up, the smell intoxicating in a different way to alcohol.  
  
It tastes.... Not great, to be honest. He grimaces and Tim laughs at his expression, “Yup it's a bit of an acquired taste,” and dumps a few packets of sugar in the cup.  
  
Edward makes it halfway through rather slowly before...  
  
“Oh shit.”  
  
The usually controlled bolts suddenly begin arching off his skin in jagged waves. Wide eyed he tries to gently place the cup back down, but the shaking is back even faster. “No, no food is supposed to stop this!”   
  
His grip involuntarily tightens on the cup and he is determined to not make a scene (not like he already is or anything). Tim's hands come to rest over Edwards and the effect is immediate. The shaking is minimised but now the bolts are striking to the closest place of grounding, radiating out from his extremities and directly into Tim where his fingers wind around the monster’s.  
  
He looks up and Tim is very obviously trying not to react, but Edward knows all too well how vicious the miniature lightning can be and tries to pull away.  
  
Tim shakes his head no (oh fuck is it so painful he can't even speak?) and pries the cup from Edward’s grip first before letting go.  
  
Well, that's out of the way but he’s still vibrating, and emitting sparks and the other patrons of the café are very clearly becoming distressed and the panic that is setting in is only making it worse.  
  
Of course, Tim notices, pulls out his gun and fires it at the first thing that approaches, “Alright! Clear out if you want to live!”  
  
It’s an effective order.  
  
The two of them stand, Edward leaning heavily against the table, his knees visibly quaking. It becomes immediately apparent that his legs are not going to hold him, the tremor running through them growing unbearable.  
  
He takes a steadying breath and steps back.  
  
He is falling.  
  
And then he is not.  
  
Tim's grip on him is firm (but that could just be from the reactionary muscles tensing) and he barely staggers under the weight of his lanky companion. He hoists one of Edward’s arms over his shoulder and his charge looks up again to thank him.  
  
The sight of his hair standing on end would be hilarious if it weren’t overshadowed by the very obvious and incredible pain on his face.  
  
The two of them manage to stagger out the door and Tim only shoots three people for getting in the way (but that's probably because his fingers seize up soon after).  
  
***  
  
How they make it back to Aurora, neither of them can say.  
  
Ivy and Raphaella rush out, the latter clad in thick rubber gloves. Ivy scoops up Tim and Raph grabs Edward before he can fall. They both crumple immediately, the ladies stumbling slightly under the sudden dead weight.   
  
They are dragged inside, Ivy carting Tim off to the med bay and Raphaella fighting to control her convulsing wings on the way to her lab.  
  
Later, when Raphaella has left Edward to wait out his come down, Ivy comes to check up on him. He’s feeling rather dizzy and a little disoriented and the only thing he can think about is how Tim helped him despite the obvious pain he was being put through. It’s almost as though Edward is drunk with the way his thoughts are running and his body is swaying. Now that he’s safe he’s enjoying floating in that perfect place between honesty and incoherence.  
  
So, he can’t be blamed when, as soon as he recognises his best friend, he starts spouting all sorts of nonsense. Frankly, he can’t remember most of it, something about enjoying the buzz and despising his tremor and it making it feel like too much is in there but apparently, he also said quite a bit else.  
  
***  
  
It's a few days after the performance when this comes to a head. The ship was back in flight and Edward had gone seeking Ivy out, arms full of rolled up maps to upload.  
  
She's waiting when he arrives at her desk in the library, book in hand as usual, but when she notices his approach, she snaps it closed and reaches blindly toward a nearby stack of files.  
  
“Wait, wait! I have a reminder for you!”  
  
He does as she asks patiently, impressed and endeared as ever at her ability to keep track of all her little reminders. When she first explained how her reset worked, he had felt an incredible sense of pity, but now he simply admires her focus despite her memory-based shortcomings.  
  
She rifles through until she finds a folder with two words scribbled across the front.  
  
“Here it is!” She exclaims in triumph, brandishing the folder before him, the words clearer now. It reads 'Edward aro'. Hmm, a new word maybe? Sometimes she likes to share the etymology along with it, but this is a pretty thick file. She flicks it open and there is red ink scrawled in corners and Edward knows it’s not just a word.  
  
“Here we go! I wanted to ask if you identified as aromantic? Or if you had heard the phrase before.” She doesn’t look up as she asks her questions, instead face now buried in the file as she flips through.  
  
It occurs to him that this is probably a rather blunt question, but he’s grown rather used to them when they come from her.  
  
“No sorry, I’ve never heard it before.”  
  
And then she explains. She connects every piece of evidence that he apparently told her those few days ago like the catalogue she is. And with every word his whole world feels like it's slotting into place. Everything makes just a bit more sense.  
  
Huh.  
  
***  
  
You’d think after all that trauma that Edward would avoid coffee like the plague, right? Or at least after the torrential stream of berating he got from Raph?  
  
Nope.  
  
The next time they’re stopped at a human colony he sneaks off to grab a cup. This time though, he waits until he’s back in the privacy of his quarters before he downs the whole thing in one go. He reasons that it’s cooled down enough, and he doesn’t want to bother with the acrid taste.  
  
“Well then, here’s hoping this goes well.”  
  
While he waits for it to set in, he clears a small space, shuffling and re-rolling papers into their designated tubes (and he realises this is not what he expected to finally clean his room for). He also decides to fling off his waistcoat and shoes again, and then strips out of his shirt, struggling for a moment with the copious belts. With most of his layers removed he stands and waits.  
  
“I want to find out how much of this I can see,” he mutters to himself as he drags over his mirror so he can watch his spine's reaction.  
  
It feels like it takes a little longer this time, but maybe that’s just because he has nothing to do but pace in his small, paperless oasis.  
  
The tremor starts up first and he clenches his fists a couple times to keep it at bay.  
  
_Edward. This doesn’t seem like a very good idea._ Aurora whispers in alarm, but he mentally shrugs her off.  
  
This time he notices the thrum of his rising heart rate and the slowly increasing volume of the whir of his spine. Soon enough, the small sparks begin to radiate out from the mechanism and curl around his back, making small arcs across his limbs and bouncing between his fingers.  
  
_Starwatcher. I’m sending someone to help._  
  
Edward barely hears her. There is an uncomfortable warmth coming from his legs. He bunches up his skirt and locks his knees and watches the light melt through the synthetic fibres of his tights.  
  
“Woops.”  
  
And then Raphaella and Nastya barrel through the door.  
  
“Edward what the hell?”  
  
Raph keeps yelling but Nastya pretty quickly covers her eyes. In fact, Raph is so caught up in her rage it takes Nastya slapping her shoulder to notice his state of undress.  
  
She goes red, turns around, and keeps yelling.  
  
Through all this, Edward gently lowers himself to the floor as he feels his knees starting to give way. At no point does he grab his shirt though, deciding to see how long he can fuck with them. Aurora’s amusement rings through the back of his mind.  
  
_I may be laughing but that doesn’t mean I approve._  
  
“As a second test goes, I’d call that a success.” He mutters in reply.  
  
***  
  
“Come on Raph! It’s an experiment!”  
  
As soon as he says that Raphaella does a complete 180. She shoots off and comes back an hour later to drag him down to her lab where he finds a 5-kilo bag of beans, an espresso machine, and a quivering human barista waiting for them.  
  
Eyeing the mortal Edward asks, “You couldn’t just learn how- You know what, this is fine.”  
  
Another 10 minutes later and Raph has to throw him into the lead cage. And give him some new clothes.  
  
“Woops,” She says, taming her wings yet again. “Maybe starting with a double shot wasn’t such a good idea.”  
  
After this test, they conclude that combining an extremely overactive nervous system with caffeination is rather deadly for anyone who comes in contact with Edward. Well, the human was nice while they lasted.  
  
***  
  
Building resistance to the compound is an interesting experience but the scientist and the cartographer figure out that there is a way he can get the fun of the extra energy without the excessive shaking. It just means actually taking care of himself and not leaving it up to his mechanism alone to keep him alive.  
  
Which. Takes some time to remember.  
  
Some time into the tests, Edward finds himself complaining to Marius. “Sleeping is the worst part. Who wants to just stop doing anything for 2 hours?”  
  
When Marius finds out that’s how much sleep he thinks he needs, he shoots him in frustration. He comes to a bit later to find the doctor mopping up the blood in his hair. “Okay, that was fair.”  
  
But with practice (and how come this feels like it’s taking so long?) he learns how to take care of himself again.  
  
He eats, and sleeps, and takes breaks from his sketching to wander the halls, all at regular intervals instead of randomly dispersed by necessity. Which means he sees everyone a lot more.   
  
And he drinks _a lot_ of coffee.  
  
So, it’s not long before he crosses paths with Tim again, this time much more stable on his feet but with the same pleasantly electrifying glow radiating from him.  
  
“Hey Tim!”  
  
In lieu of greeting, he grins in a way that would worry Edward if his self-preservation extended just a little further, but he simply smiles in kind and asks, “What’s up?”  
  
The grin hasn’t dropped from his face as he approaches and now it’s getting a little unnerving. “Can I borrow your hand?”  
  
Edward tilts his head, momentarily confused by the question.  
  
“Oh! Another experiment?” He pauses for a second and tries to gauge how sane Tim is right now.  
  
Noticing the other man's hesitation Tim is quick to reassure. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” He says, the smile still stuck firm to his face.  
  
What the hell, Edward thinks with a shrug, holding his arm out, palm up in response. He pulls his sleeve back too because he has learnt by now to keep clothing out of the way.   
  
They both jump minutely from the first brush of fingers, Tim because of the initial static shock, Edward in reaction to Tim’s comparatively cold hands. He has always run rather hot. Immediately, Edward is caught in the vice of Tim’s grasp as the voltage causes his muscles to involuntarily tense. He lets out a small, pained noise and clenches his jaw against it.  
  
Edward is seconds from asking if he should pull away, but Tim beats him to it. He manages to spit out an explanation from between his teeth. “I’ve been practicing,” he says, trying to grin, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “I wanted to get used to it in case you needed help again.”  
  
Edward’s heart would always jump a jolt at the most miniscule of changes.  
  
This time, it stutters for a different reason.  
  
Tim reaches out with his other hand and Edward silently accepts the offer, the two of them now standing in a mirrored grip. Tim’s hair slowly begins to rise now that the circuit is complete, and Edward watches in amused fascination this time rather than fear.  
  
Through still gritted teeth Tim jokes, “You probably don't need that taser anymore, huh?”  
  
Edward’s responding laughter sends another ripple through the waves and he winces in sympathy as they strike Tim’s forearms with renewed force. He loosens his grip on the pretty man and steps away.  
  
“That's probably enough experimentation for now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 CW: Canon-typical violence, angst, miscommunication, internalized arophobia.

***

3

***

The next time he runs into battle Edward is resplendent, God-like in his radiance. When he bleeds his blood boils and burns those around him that haven't already been caught by his bolts.

He catches more than a few admiring gazes from his victims. At least, that's what he thinks their last face is. Battlefield expressions tend to be rather indistinguishable from terror. He revels in their awe alongside Tim and Jonny and they carve through the enemy with delight. It's as though the added charge unlocked his bloodthirsty potential. Whatever is in the rations isn't quite caffeine but it has the same effect, stronger even.

There are a few other Mechanisms who joined this war. Tim, Jonny, and The TS as always, but Brian too. Someone must have messed with his switch and he thought this one was worth fighting for. Interestingly enough, he's for the other side to the rest of the crew, bar The TS who bounces between as usual.

Edward is the first to spot Brian in the field, rushing over and knocking him out immediately, leaving him a sparking metal heap. He was trying for mercy but then Jonny sprints to his side and riddles the robot full of bullets too. It’s not much, but it will take him longer to reconstruct.

Jonny sprints off again with glee, and Edward pats the head of his deceased crewmate with remorse, “Sorry mate. I tried to stop him.”

***

So, they enjoy their first year of service with a bit more vigour than Edward had expected. So much so in fact, that he forgets that service  _ leave _ is a thing. Well at least Tim is around for it.

“Man, I can’t imagine how boring this would be if you weren’t here,” the Starwatcher says one day as he watches his left leg sew itself back together after one of their tussles.

Tim smiles and continues Edward’s thought as his own gut reorders itself. “Oh yes, when the burn of war runs through your veins, it’s unbearable without a renewable source of homicide around.” He reaches behind himself and begins methodically disassembling and reconstructing his guns to pass the time until they can fight again. “Jonny is going to have a rough time without us around.”

“Toy might be around,” Edward reasons.

He picks himself up from the floor of their room, crossing over to his cot and seating himself on it cross-legged. It’s while he’s waiting that he remembers his hesitancy to shock the others, and he exhales a light laugh. Tim looks over at the small noise.

“Care to share with the class?”

Edward breathes through the last of his mirth before replying. “It's nothing really. It’s just, I got used to murder so quickly but it took me so long to be okay with shocking you.” He pauses with a shrug. “I don’t know, just thought it was funny.”

Tim pauses in his ministrations for a moment. “Maybe…it's because the electricity is part of you? With a weapon it can feel separate, like you could pretend it's not in your control as much. But unless you're in direct contact and caffeinated, you have to intend to shock us. Or that's how you've explained it to me before,” he reasons.

“Hmm. Well, your,” Edward pauses to find the right word, “assistance, helped too, I think.”

Tim grins at that, and there's something else behind it. “Oh? You mean me getting bored enough to want it?” 

Which, ouch, but it must be true. Yes, initially he was doing it to build a bit of resistance for Edward’s sake, but after a while it really was just the latest distraction from the monotony of space travel. The rest of the crew tried it out a couple times too, Jonny and Marius taking it the furthest and challenging each other to see what voltage they could handle.

But there was something different about the way Tim treated it, and the look on his face right now is… distracting. Edward can't place what it is though, just that it looks wrong on his features… too, soft.

He laughs, belatedly. “Yeah, I guess,” and averts his gaze back to his almost complete leg.

***

These moments keep happening. 

Stolen glances over gunfire and tentative whispers in trenches and each interaction leaves Edward reeling. He really doesn’t know what to do with it. He finds himself confiding in Toy when it finally re-joins their side, catching a moment alone with it.

“I hate to look too deep into it is the thing. I just don’t want to let him down.”

The Soldier is suspiciously quiet, but Edward doesn’t seem to notice, barrelling ahead as he finally lets out all of his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe it isn’t anything, or simply the natural progression of our friendship? Maybe this is just what he’s like when he’s surrounded by violence.”

At that it finally speaks up. “Well, Yes! That Wouldn’t Be The Strangest Reaction Any Of Us Have Had To War!”

Edward hums in contemplative agreement. But then he remembers every time Tim came looking for him for ‘shock practice’ and out of context it really was just ‘can I hold your hand?’ and what can he do with  _ that _ ?

***

Nothing apparently. The war ends, as they all do, and the five of them inevitably return to the Aurora. While things are obviously never ‘normal’ on the ship, it goes back to what is usual.

Except for these… moments.

“I swear this is going to drive me mad Aurora,” He complains from where he’s splayed out on the floor of his quarters. “he's not  _ actually doing _ anything is the thing! He’s just... looking at me. A lot.”

_ Is it really that distracting? _

__

Her one comment manages to spur him to a conclusion. “It’s not exactly debilitating, no.”

So, he makes the decision to continue what he always does; drinking coffee, making maps, and annoying the hell out of Ivy with said maps.

But there's something else. Sometime after the five of them had returned, something... shifts in the way the whole crew is treating him. He doesn’t really know what to call it, they're just closer. Their gazes stick to him for a few more seconds then necessary, and they seem to be finding more and more excuses to brush past him.

They keep whispering just out of earshot of him or, if he walks into a room, they'll go quiet and he'll have nothing to go off but Tim's red soaked cheeks. When he finally caves and asks Ivy and Aurora, they only give him amused, false ignorance. It's… grating.

That uneasy feeling keeps growing in his gut until Tim apparently gets bored of his apathy towards his strange one-sided staring contest. It’s almost as though, when he realises the Starwatcher isn’t going to respond, he ups his game. Hard.

Unlike before, when Tim would simply watch the other man whenever he wandered into the common spaces, he now seeks the lonely cartographer out just to spend time with him. At first Edward thinks he’d just gotten very interested in the stars and, as such, is very responsive to his… advances. Because now Tim is the only one who isn't treating him any differently, he’s just around more.

So, Edward decides to respond in kind, following Tim back to the armoury when he is invited, appearing in the turret booth, and asking Tim to explain his modifications. Tim still throws those strange looks every now and again though, but Edward is vehemently ignoring them, instead choosing to enjoy the fun of having something more than just looking to work with.

He’s enjoying pointing out the little anachronistic properties of one of his favourite systems when he glances back up to gauge Tim’s reaction. And he’s just. Staring. Again.

His annoyance boils over before he can stop it. “Oh, for fucks sake seriously? I thought we were past this!”

Tim jumps at the sudden exasperated explosion and then glances away, a guilty grimace gracing his face, muttering a quiet, “Sorry.”

Edward softens at his response and tries again. “No that’s not,” he sighs, annoyed at himself now for his thoughtless actions. “I'm sorry it's just there’s obviously something going on. Can’t you say what it is?”

There's a moment where Tim stutters out some noises that aren’t words at all before a sharp inhale. A handful of emotions flicker over his face, indecision chief among them. Edward realises he still hasn’t let out that breath, so decides to break the silence himself.

“Is it something I did? If you tell me what’s wrong, we can sort something out!” He pauses, snapping his fingers as a nervous tick. “I hated living with that weird tension whenever I saw you and I thought it was okay now and we were friends but apparently not? I love being with you but-” He cuts himself off when he reads Tim’s paling face and realises, he’s not being as reassuring as he thought.

And then very suddenly Tim stands up, disturbing the precarious piles of paper about. “Fuck, sorry, I- look, just forget about it all right?’ He’s refusing to look at the confused cartographer. “I'll stop all this, don't worry,” He adds quietly, backing towards the door, narrowly avoiding knocking over the stacks. “I thought you- well, never mind you obviously- um. Just, I'll see you-”

Edward cuts in before Tim can make it out the door. “Wait! Thought I'd what? Tim, you're going to have to spell this out for me because I really don't know-”

“No that's the thing!” Tim exclaims. “It's pointless. The fact that you don't know is proof that,” He takes a shaky breath, “that there's nothing there.” 

At his last admission he pales beyond compare. And dashes out the door. Edward stumbles after him with a yell. “Tim!!”

He catches up halfway down the corridor and grabs Tim by the sleeve, anxiety laced lightning passing into the other man. Tim stops dead.

Edward takes a steadying breath. “I'm about to say something, and I need you to be honest with me okay?”

Because now he thinks he understands the cause of all this change, and he knows this conversation is not going to be easy. Tim gives a sullen nod, still half turned away.

“Do you-” No, that’s not right, “Are you… infatuated with me?”

They’re close enough for Edward to see the effect his words have as Tim’s breath catches in his throat. There's a very long pause where Edward’s heart climbs into his own throat, it's beating so obvious it shakes his whole body. He fights down the sparks that are threatening to lash out.

And then, the most minute of nods from Tim and the electrified man’s heart does something else funny. Because he realises now, and what he wants is so close,  _ but you can't have it can you? _ He thinks. All of Tim’s looking makes a hell of a lot more sense now.

He draws a breath and gives a long exhale to calm his pounding chest. “Right. I, um- am in a… similar position,” and he hates how stuttery he sounds right now, “um- I think,”  _ and oh he's looking back now, and the tips of his ears are red, and I can't bear to see it, _ “except-”

Tim looks so hesitant when he next speaks. There's a fear in his eyes that Edward has never seen before, and an anger that he has. 

“Don't- Eddy, don't lie for my sake.” He brings a hand up and presses his eyes shut with far more force than necessary. “You obviously hadn't even noticed until I let it slip and this situation really requires transparency.” A wet sounding sigh, and then he continues, “I mean, you know now so, if you're not interested just say so,” He finishes with a shrug of feigned indifference.

“No, no! I'm not lying I just-” And then Edward decides, fuck it, if transparency is what he wants then he might as well go for it.

“I'm- there's a word I came across…well actually Ivy suggested it to me.” He hums anxiously, “and it would be a lot easier if you knew what it meant because I'm really not good at explaining? And fuck you're probably just going to think there's something wrong with me-”

Tim is still mostly folded in on himself but at those last words he looks up and puts a hand over Edward’s where it is still gripping his shirt.

Spurred on by the contact, Edward continues. “Right, well it’s... the word that is… um, do you know what aromantic is?”

The tension that had gripped Tim’s whole body lets up slightly. “Oh. Yeah, I've heard it before.”

Edward takes his response as permission to keep talking. “Yes, so. The thing is I've definitely…lusted for you,”  _ and oh the red really works on his cheeks, _ he thinks, “but um, there are, relationship things that I'm just not interested in and, well I didn’t want to pursue you if I couldn't…give you everything you wanted.”

He pauses, letting his admission ring out. Tim lets the silence run too though so he rushes through the last of his little speech. “But you said you wanted transparency and so that's what I'm giving you.”

And maybe there's a part of him that's thinking Tim can lose interest now, and they can just go back to being friends. Because really, who wants to be dealing with that? And sure, it's been long enough by now that he knows he'll always want Tim like that but if this is the easier option...

He realises he’s still got a hold on Tim’s sleeve so loosens his grip and steps back, flexing his fingers as small bolts bounce between them in the wake of his anxiety; now probably isn't a good time to crowd him, he thinks.

The look on Tim’s face reads as though one could actually see the gears turning behind it. “What if…what if that didn't matter?” He backtracks a second. “Not that it's not important, and thank you for telling me but, well I might be able to fix that?”

Fix? A horrible feeling rolls through Edward’s gut  and very quietly there's a voice in the back of his head that can't deny its interest. At his conflicted expression Tim seems to realise what he's said. “No! Oh god not like that! I just mean, there's an… arrangement that I was going to invite you into, all things going well, but I guess I can just ask now.”

“Arrangement?”

“Yes see, me and the others, the crew that is, are all sort of… involved?” As he speaks, he worries his hands together. “There are different levels throughout, like how Nastya and Aurora call each other their girlfriends but, broadly speaking we're all… together.” He pauses for a second, a blush colouring his cheeks once again. “It was my idea to ask you to join. After we got back, I was going to come to you separately and then if you were interested, ask if you'd like to join all of us, except that you and I would be boyfriends specifically.” His blush deepens, “if that was something you wanted of course. But I just got so caught up in enjoying your company and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Very suddenly, Edward remembers the way the crew had changed recently. He sees in a new light the friendly ribbing, the gentler than necessary touches, the lingering smiles. “Oh.”

“So, I guess what I'm saying is, you don't need to worry about romance stuff because I can go to someone else for it if I need to. And I definitely want you. That is if you're still, what was the word you used? Lusting?” He grins mischievously at his own last remark and Edward’s answering blush.

Edward can’t help but smile. “Well, I loved you all already, didn’t I?”

***

It was of course at that disgustingly affectionate moment that Ashes rounded the corner, a shit eating grin splitting their face. The complimentary mirth rolls off Aurora and into the back of Edward’s mind.

“Fin-a-fuckin-ly Timothy!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 CW: Allusions to sex, angst, canon-typical violence.

***

4

***

The heavy and easily identifiable footsteps of the Drumbot alight upon the corridor outside Edward’s quarters, making his polite knock rather unnecessary. MjE then. The cartographer smiles to himself, “Come on in!” He calls.

Although maybe not, after all there are only a few reasons for his dear pilot to come a-knocking. Most frequently, he’ll come under the gaze of his annoyance whenever the starwatcher uses his connection to Aurora to circumvent his instructions and directly change a route instead of asking the pilot. Of course, he hadn’t done so recently but he struggles to remember if Brian hadn’t punished him for the last one and someone had only now switched him to EjM, leaving him to trick Edward with this simple act.

The expression he forms as he turns to the door starts as apologetic just in case.

But the almost mirrored look on the metal face before him gives him pause. Brian steps into the room and the door slides shut behind him. It is only now that the blinking light of his eyes becomes visible to Edward, the most notable sign that the prophet is about to deliver some very important Words. No greeting passes his lips, they both know that as soon as he starts speaking The Words will pour forth.

Edward stands, his knees and hands shivering slightly, and takes three steps toward the man and into the slightly cleaner floor space at the centre of the room. As he comes to a stop Brian smiles slightly at the silent acceptance. Then, he lets his eyes slip closed and lets The Words fall from his lips.

**“My dear Starwatcher,**

**You are going to leave us.**

**You will find a new home,**

**And a new crew.”**

With each word he intones Edward can feel his heart clenching tighter, his stomach dropping lower, his hands shaking faster.

**“Do not fear, my dear.**

**The joys you have felt aboard this ship will be multiplied by an uncountable amount,**

**As you journey through your stars with this new family.”**

Despite these platitudes, he can feel the tears beginning to stain his cheeks.

**“You will see us again, my dear,**

**But you will never again be our Starwatcher.”**

As his last words draw their silence and his eyes open once again, Edward takes in his own shaky breath and tips forward into the slightly shorter man’s already open arms, heavy sobs wracking his chest. He tangles his shaking grip into the back of Brian’s coat as his arms come around Edward as well, cradling more of his weight then the shivering man’s own legs are able to carry.

He rushes through apologies as he holds Edward, his cold metal fingers carding through short hair, as the bolts that radiate off the monster in his arms spark no reaction. But they both know there is nothing to be done. Fighting this fate will only make things worse. 

Neither of them knows how long he holds Edward together. The cartographer was never good with time, but oh god does he wish he’d kept better track of it, because how long has he had with them? How long will he have left? How long will he have to wait before he can see them again? He spirals further and further and wishes he hadn’t spent so long locked in his fucking room. His breaths are barely coming in horrible, ragged gasps, his lungs already clogged with useless carbon dioxide.

Brain doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t need to. While the others can coach each other through anxiety attacks by taking intentional breaths to mirror, Brian can simply press the others back and force the used-up air out of him, holding his lungs empty for as he counts out the seconds, before allowing the taller man to breathe back in again. He works through these repetitions for the shaking figure until he’s breathing intentionally again and matching the steady pace.

Edward’s return to calm is visible in the slow disappearance of his lightning. Despite this, he refuses to remove his face from where it’s pressed into the junction between Brian’s neck and shoulder. He doesn’t complain, simply returns to his mumbled apologies.

After a moment he changes tact. “Do you mind if I move us somewhere more comfortable?” he asks.

Edward nods minutely, rubbing tears into brass skin, so Brian pulls away and bends forward slightly, hefting the slight man into his arms, cradling him under the legs and behind his back. He takes the handful of steps toward the bed. Sitting down he leaves Edward in his lap.

Edward leans back and looks down into flickering LED eyes. Wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, he decides to air one of the questions from his spiral. “How long do you think I have?”

Brian thumbs away a few of the marks that were missed from Edwards tan cheeks before answering, leaving his hand to cradle his chin. “The course was set before I Knew. The asteroid station we are bound for already holds part of your future. We’re less than 48 hours away. You will find another pilot there,” he says. “She owns a business, a café of sorts. I’ve met her before. She is like us.” 

He guides Edward’s head back down to his brass shoulder and presses a light kiss to his temple before continuing. “She will Know what you are and ask you to stay, ask you to help her build her own crew. She will tell you her tale and promise you the stars. There will be others, familiar faces. The biographer bot you and Raphaella found will go with you, and later another past crewmate and friend of mine will arrive.”

Edward doesn’t know what to say. There isn’t really anything to say anyway. So, he lets the silence carry, curling further into his living chair, his tall stature making the act rather difficult.

The two of them let the time pass for a while like this. It’s not exactly the most comfortable position but neither wishes to break it, they don’t want to give each other a reason to go. They run their hands lightly over each other, knuckles brushing hems, fingers tangling in hair, trying to embed the sense memory.

They can’t let go. Edward just wants to cherish every moment he has left with all of them, but right now he just needs to stop thinking about it.

So, he whispers his desire into the silence of the non-existent gap between their two bodies. “I need to Feel Something Else. Stay a while longer won’t you? Keep me company?”

“Of course, dear,” Brain replies, pressing a gentle kiss to the other man’s lips.

***

Later, the two of them emerge from Edward’s quarters. No matter how much they want to, they can't delay Edward’s tasks any longer.

“We should probably go talk to Arizona first,” Brian says. “They’ll need to start packing now if he’s going to get all of her watches packed and ready in time.” He laughs lightly at his accidental pun.

“You want to come too?” Edward asks. He had assumed he’d be handling all of this alone.

“Of course, it will be better for them if I’m there as well. Always less deniable when a literal prophet tells you your future.” He smiles weakly, “almost makes it easier to take.”

Edward agrees and they head off, Brian taking I hand in silent support.

There's never any point in knocking on Missouri’s door. The cacophonous ticking that fills the room won't spill out into the hall thanks to Nastya's adjustments. But still, it makes it impossible for her to hear anything outside. They like it that way.

But Aurora had apparently decided to adopt the little bot, and so instead she manually alerts him whenever he has guests.

The door slides open as the two of them come to a stop before it, hands still entwined. Mississippi pops their head around the corner,  **[:D]** lighting up her screen upon the sight of two of her favourite people. 

Edward tries to mirror his enthusiasm but it's clear that something is off, and their face immediately flickers to a  **[?]**

“What’s wrong buddy?” she asks.

Edward takes a steadying breath and asks, “Can we come in first?” Georgia steps aside with a nod, allowing his guests in.

Brian takes it upon himself to start explaining. As he does, Edward collapses down into one of the many mismatched pieces of furniture that litter the room, most of which are covered in the whirring and ticking collection that California adores so much.

They clank toward him once he is seated and clambers up and onto his shoulders, her short arms coming around Edward’s head in their favourite imitation of a hug, listening intently to the bigger robot's words.

As Brian repeats his premonition Edward takes the time to appreciate his voice for the umpteenth time and be thankful that he won't be going this alone.

Even before he is finished talking, Arkansas is clambering back down and preparing to launch themself at him from Edward’s lap. Brian catches her in a hug, their legs dangling as she presses her screen to his cheek in repeated imitations of kisses, producing an exaggerated 'mwah' noise in between their goodbyes.

Brian laughs at their exaggerated behaviour, “I know, I know, I’ll miss you too darling.”

Texas’ emotions are different, slightly harder to understand, but this is his way of expressing their acceptance of the prophecy and also trying to get every piece of affection for the pilot in while he has the chance.

It takes them far less time to calm down than Edward did, and the pair leave her to start packing.

“I’ll only bring my favourites, don’t worry!” Although her reassurance gives Edward no illusions of the possibility of her only bringing one bag.

As the door slides shut behind them, Brian pulls Edward’s shaking hand to his lips in goodbye.

“Come on now,” Edward says, clinging to half-arsed snark as a final emotional defence, “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Brian just smiles against his sizzling skin. And then they part ways as Brian returns to the helm and Edward seeks out the others for their farewells.

***

“Who first?” Edward mutters to himself, already wandering aimlessly in the opposite direction that Brian went. Not Tim. He can’t. Even the thought of telling him squeezes Edward’s chest in the worst way.

“But, if I don’t tell him soon, aren’t I just wasting what time we have left?” Part of him almost just wants to go straight to his partner’s quarters and wait out the rest of the journey with his lover.

He can’t decide, so he turns and presses a palm to the cool metal wall. “Aurora? Anyone nearby?”

There’s something anxious in the code that she spins through his mind, but he can’t grab it, head and heart too caught up in his own anxiety over the weapons master.

_ Yes. Jonny is approximately a minute’s walk away. _

Ah. “That’ll work. The captain of emotional deflection himself. Easy.”

Aurora’s voice in the back of his mind quietens as he removes his hand but is still present enough for him to keep a rough track of the mate’s movements thanks to the connection with his bare feet. As he rounds the last corner a bullet hole appears in the wall above his head.

The snark drips from his tongue before he can think, “Come on Jonny! Your aim is slipping. And hey, you better not piss off Nastya anymore.”

The start of Jonny’s answering laugh is drowned out by the next three shots and Edward lets them catch him in the chest and stomach. Funnily enough, that’s what gives the mate pause.

He spreads his arms wide, forever poised in showmanship as he delivers his next line. “Come on Starboy, it’s not fun if you don’t fight back!”

Edward scoffs and picks the ripped fabric out of his wounds before they have a chance to close up around the intrusions. “Yeah well, had to give you a free shot one of these days.” He replies, knowing this could well be the last time for a while that his faux captain takes his pot shots. Huh, he thinks, never thought I’d miss that.

He can already feel the electricity sewing him back up and masks his emotions with a grimace at the physical pain. He learnt from the best after all. The stench of new blood and smoke has a strangely calming effect. 

What the hell. Rhetoric about ripping plasters and all that. He finally looks up and locks eyes with the mate.

“I’m going.”

A flicker of recognition of a universe that did and didn't exist clings to Jonny’s features, a memory of a very similar phrase from another member of the crew swirls through his mind. Silver blood dripping to the floor that time. Same smoking gun, same confused man.

“When are you coming back?” He’s still trying for his perfectly staged manic poise but it’s failing as he re-reads the doomed script of abandonment.

Another deep breath from the Starwatcher, cough and choke back the blood and bile leaking into his electrified throat.

“Probably won’t.”

Grip visibly tightening on his gun. Jaw clenched harder. Shoulders taut. No way of knowing what’s really going through his whiskey addled head or steady metal heart.

“Fuck this.”

A bullet through his brain is the last thing Edward feels.

***

When he comes to there’s nothing to be seen but the shallow pool of his own blood, the left side of his head swimming in it. He groans as he forces himself back to his feet and combs his fingers through his sticky hair. He grimaces and wipes his hand on his already ruined waistcoat.

“Well, that could have gone better,” another groan as he shakes his pounding head, “could have gone worse too. Next?”

He lays his palm back against the wall, both to talk to Aurora and to lighten the dizzying feeling of neurons rewiring.

An immediate response.

_ I’m so sorry Starwatcher. _

Her code is breaking down slightly due to her emotions and the anxiety laced binary throws his already spinning skull, but he catches her meaning. Nastya knows.

“It’s okay Aurora, I’d need to tell her anyway.” He sighs and prepares himself. “It just makes my choice easier.”

_ I didn’t mean to. She’s just very good at telling when something is off about me. _

“No, I can’t be mad at either of you for your connection,” He reassures. But, he thinks, I can blame myself for my own ignorance. Aurora is just as close to him as the rest of them, closer even, thanks to the nature of their partially telepathic communication. Of course, she was going to be sad about him leaving just as much as anyone else.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I promise, you mean so much to me.”

The whole walk to the engine rooms is spent on this unexpected goodbye. Well, more spent on Edward attempting to apologize and Aurora demanding they think of something happier. So, they pass the time with shared memories instead. Keeping a solid connection slows his pace but he arrives at the doors too soon anyway. They slide open expectantly, and he steps inside. 

The air is hazy and filled with steam at his usual height, making his glasses rather useless, so he stoops down slightly to see through the gloom. He spots Nastya wired into the computer terminal at the left side of the room. Despite having just picked himself up from death, he is far more afraid of her than anyone else right now. He just hurt Aurora’s feelings.

He comes to a stop before her, apologies already filling his throat, but she dismisses them with a wave.

“Don’t bother starboy. I was already plugged in and saw everything you said.” Her thick accent covers up any emotion Edward could perceive besides cool annoyance. “I already know the extent of your remorse.” 

She removes the cables from her wrist and stands, stepping over to him. Despite her words, he still tenses under her gaze as she eyes up the blood-stained side of his head, but she doesn’t mention it. And then he notices the heavy metal tool she carries. He dreads its possible use. Is she going to bash his skull in? Again?

She notices him eyeing up the object with fear and sighs. “It’s not for you идиот. I need you to give it to someone else. Their name is Wylan. Fae used to be a student of mine,” She pauses and shakes her head. “No, a friend.”

She’s lost in a memory for a moment, but she comes back suddenly and holds it out to him. After a moment's hesitation he takes it, trying his best not to bump any of the buttons or sharp edges.

“How do you know I’ll find him?”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she’s suddenly stood very close. Before Edward can react, she brings her arms around him in a stiff embrace. He flounders for a moment before returning the embrace one-armed, the other hand still held out and away, grip tight around the unidentified tool. It is awkward and draws out for perhaps a bit too long, but he appreciates it, nonetheless. She was never one for physical affection for anyone other than Aurora. When she pulls away her face is unusually soft.

“Good luck out there солнышко. Wylan is a good engineer. They’ll take care of whatever ship you find yourself on.” Attempting more affection, she punches him lightly in the shoulder. “You take care of xem and yourself for me alright?”

Edward balks at the term of endearment but nods his agreement, not trusting his yet again tear-filled throat.

She inhales sharply through her nose, clearly trying to contain her own sadness and then begins shooing him away. “Go on then! You have more important goodbyes to say, don’t you?”

***

This is all getting to be a bit too much. As the engine room doors slip shut behind him, he manages three steps forward before sliding down one of the walls. The metal of his spine grinds against it with a horrible screech that rings in his ears and just makes him feel worse. His glasses dangle from their chain as he scrubs his eyes, letting his nails catch on his cheeks.

“God, I’m a mess,” he cries into his palms.

“Fine then.” He lifts one hand and presses it to the floor. “One more favour dear?”

_ Yes? _

“Just tell them for me. Please.”

_ Of course. _

He sits back with his knees drawn to his chest and tries to breathe again, because he is finally able to identify the root of the sadness. He mumbles his despair to himself, already falling into old habits from the station.

“Dear gods, I don’t want to be Lonely again. I gave it all to them you know? My loneliness isn't mine anymore. And it hurt so much to give it up, to relinquish my story, to believe that they _couldn't_ _die or leave me_. They were supposed to be my family forever! But here we fucking are. It's me that’s leaving, and I can't even do anything about it. And I’m fucking up every last moment I have with them. Brian can give his platitudes about finding others to love but the process is going to be the same. The pain is the same. I’ll have to go through all of it all again.”

“God I’m so, so tired.”

Aurora hums useless calm into his head as he waits for anyone to find him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 CW: Medical care/needles, mentions of sex, angst (needle description bordered by ^^^ and completely skipable)

***

5

***

As always, it’s hard to tell how long he sits in wait, but eventually Aurora's voice returns.

I have alerted everyone, and Tim is on his way.

Edward’s heart seizes. Of course it’s him that’s coming, but that doesn’t stop his reaction. He can’t be bothered making himself more presentable, he can barely be bothered to look up as the footsteps of Gunpowder Tim come to a stop before him.

Even before he comes into sight the emotions spill over from the monster’s eyes and spine. His whole body is radiating the lightning of his pain, lashing out like a wounded animal. And he hates that he knows that Tim is the only one who will touch him anyway. 

The long-haired man kneels before the creature, bringing his hands up to cup its face, and presses their foreheads and noses together in a gesture which he long ago discovered serves to calm his partner. It’s an imitation of a half-remembered memory of the greeting used on the shaking fool’s home station. The soothing effect is almost immediate when coupled with his voice.

The song cuts through the buzzing like a knife and the part of Edward’s brain that ties the beautiful voice to his joy floods with endorphins. The chemical conflict makes everything too much. He can’t make out what words he’s hearing, though the tune is unforgettably familiar. He leans forward, mirroring the embrace Tim holds him in, and instinctively joins in on the other half of the duet, despite his tear-clogged throat throwing him off-key.

Even through the song he can’t stop thinking that he's hurting his lover, how he always has, despite his intentions. How Tim would always hold him anyway, no matter how much Edward would protest. Why couldn’t I just cherish what you gave me, he thinks.

It’s only as he nears the end of his own verse that he realises what words they are singing and their damning appropriateness. He scrubs the tears from his own cheeks as Tim hums the interlude. The next line Tim simply speaks. 

“Oh, my love, what madness can this be?” Tim reflects Edward’s tearstained attempt at a smile. 

“My love, I only meant to please. I thought maybe, if I put it off, I could just pretend I was staying forever.” Edward’s tears choke him for a moment, but he forces himself to apologize for his hubris. “I’m sorry.”

Tim gently takes Edward’s glasses from where they are still dangling on their chain and places them back on his nose. Then, he brushes his lover’s fringe back into a bit of a neater presentation, but his hand comes away covered in flakes and clumps of semi-dried blood. He reaches forward and picks at the bullet holes in Edward’s waistcoat and shirt. “Come on Star, let’s get you to the med bay and clean you up.”

Edward grimaces at the prospect of seeing Marius and having to farewell yet another crewmate, “I’ll handle it,” Tim reassures, 

“although I don’t expect it will go too badly anyway.” 

Then he takes Edward’s hand and pulls him to his feet, keeping their fingers intertwined as they make their way.

Edward just misses him already.

***

There is a rather unexpected sight before them as they stop off at Edward’s chambers. They had meant to collect him a new shirt on the way to the med bay. Although really, by now he should just know not to expect anything. Outside the door Ashes is unloading and preparing compactor containers while Toy brews tea.

Toy looks up as it hears them approach. “Welcome Back Old Bean! We Guessed You Would Be Rather Drained After What Aurora Told Us.” It goes back to carefully decanting the drinks into their cups.

Ashes pauses in their ministrations and picks up where it left off. “We thought we’d do something a bit more helpful than riddling you with bullets. Obviously, we’re going to miss you too but, you’ve had enough of all that, I think.”

They drop the last of the boxes in the pile and step forward. “Although, you’re not getting away without a hug, starboy.”

And they sweep him up into their arms in a comfortingly crushing embrace. As they let him go, TS precariously balances the last of the cups on the stack of boxes and steps in beside the quartermaster. “I Would Also Like To Give You A Hug Friend!” 

Edward gives his permission and meets it halfway as it brings its stiff wooden arms around him. “I Am Going To Miss You And Alaska Quite A Bit But That Is Okay! You Are Going To Have Lots Of Fun And I Am Sure We Will See You Again!”

He spends a moment reeling and relieved from the stark contrast of this interaction compared to his last few, so Tim speaks up for him. “Thanks lads, we were just headed to the med bay.”

Toy hands out everyone’s cups, while Ashes gives Edward’s blood-caked hair a once over. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. We don’t want you staining all of your valuables, now do we?” They pause for a second before proposing an idea. “Would you like us to get started without you?”

Edward agrees after a moment's hesitation. The boys hang around for long enough to chat and finish their drinks and simply enjoy the company until, as they’re just about to leave, Tim pauses for a moment and turns back to the Soldier. As is usual when regarding it, he picks his words carefully. “Sorry Toy, would you mind finding Jonny for me when we land?”

“Of Course!” It replies. “What Do You Want Me To Do With Him?”

“If you could just make sure he's at the airlock when we leave, that would be wonderful.” He answers with a smile.

It agrees with a salute and without hesitation and he thanks it before taking Edward’s hand and heading off.

***

When they make it to the med bay, Tim pauses in the doorway. “Actually, I have some keepsakes that I wanted to give you. We don’t want you forgetting us now do we?”

As is always the case when Tim does something kind, Edward’s heart does a little flip in his chest, but he nonetheless hugs his lover for this momentary goodbye. Marius fake gags at the affection and prepares to set Edward up for a quick x-ray to make sure the bullets made it out.

After the tests are run and Edward is deemed healthy Marius takes his waistcoat away and leaves the cartographer to clean himself up.

He’s just finishing towelling off his hair as Tim returns with a small book in one hand. Edward instinctively smiles as his partner comes over and places the object on the stand next to the hospital bed and takes over Edward’s ministrations.

“What’s this?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Tim replies from over his shoulder, so Edward snatches up the apparent gift and flips it open.

And what a gift it is. 

The book is in fact a photo album. The front page has been left blank, so Edward flicks past it and through the images of practically everything important to him. The day he arrived, his first performance. There’s one of Ivy with her face buried in an ever-present book, Jonny and Ashes sitting across from each other at a poker table, Toy and Brian roping Marius into one of their tea parties. It’s obvious that most of the subjects in each photo do not know they are being captured.

Halfway through there's a two-page spread of the lyrics and chords to ‘Starwatcher’ with a couple more shots of various bandmates in the middle of practicing. Next there is Raphaella working on her new wings, and one of Nastya as she attaches some upgrades to Aurora with an octokitten hanging off her arm. Then, there is one page left, and he already knows what it’s going to be before he flicks to it. He remembers the moment it was taken exactly. 

The last image is of Edward and Tim. He remembers it because at the time he had asked why Tim never takes photos of himself. He had finally caved, grumbling about wasted ink and telling Edward that he’d better be in it too. It’s slightly off kilter and very up close thanks to the awkward angle afforded by a selfie with no reversible sight, but nonetheless, the two of them couldn’t look happier. It’s a horribly sappy pose, Edward is pressing a kiss to Tim’s cheek, their arms slung around each other's shoulders and the background is out of focus, but Edward knows there is not an image he could cherish more.

Tim notices that he has finished his browsing and imitates the pose from this most precious of images, removing the towel from Edward’s now dry hair and pressing his lips to his lover’s now clean cheek.

Edward doesn’t know how to thank him, so he just asks what the blank page is for. “I want to get one more photo, all of the crew together as a last farewell.” Tim replies, lips still pressed against his warm cheek.

For some reason, that is what tips Edward over and he turns to face his lover properly, bringing his hands up to cup his face, and presses thankful kisses to his lips in between actual words of thanks.

Of course, Marius returns at that exact moment. “Oi! No goodbye sex in my med bay!”

Edward feels Tim’s smile pressed against his own before he responds. “So normal sex is fine?”

Despite his snark he pulls away and they turn to see the ‘doctor’ carrying a covered tray, as well as Edward’s waistcoat slung over his arm. He tosses the clothing back on the hospital bed. “Sorry Star, I got the stains out but we’re out of the green thread”.

Edward sighs, “it had to happen eventually.  New life, new clothes too I guess.”

^^^

Marius shrugs apologetically and uncovers the tray to reveal an array of needles. Edward stills at the sight. “Marius, what the fuck are those for?”

“They’re vaccines!!” He exclaims in joy.

“Marius, we’ve never had shots. In fact, I’m pretty sure Jonny’s died of tetanus at least twice now.” Edward argues. He’s pretty sure the doctor is joking but he tries to ask Tim just in case. Marius replies before he can.

“Well yes, because he dies so often, and the vaccines reset when you come back, he never bothers to get the shots again.” He begins setting out the needles as he continues. “I never gave you yours because I couldn’t figure out until recently how to keep it from burning up in your veins. I meant to find you before we landed anyway so this is just good timing!”

Edward turns to his suspiciously silent boyfriend. “Tim, he’s not serious, is he?”

He gives an apologetic grin, or as apologetic as a grin can be. “Oh no, the good doctor is telling the truth.”

At Edward’s incredulous look he continues. “Yup, Marius thinks the vaccines keep us alive for longer. As he said, Jonny pretty much opts out of them and Toy and Brian don’t exactly have flesh to get injected so they’re free too. Ivy nearly never leaves Aurora so only gets them when she knows she’s going out, although Nastya’s always the most up to date. They’re really not that much of a hassle so we let him.”

At that he turns and addresses Marius, who is now gleefully and unnecessarily flicking air bubbles out of the syringes. “But not this time mate. Eddy’s got things to do, and we only have a couple hours left.”

^^^

Marius visibly deflates and whines in protest. “But I wanted to test the new solution!’ 

Both of them laugh at his childish response before Tim grabs the photo album with one hand and reaches to entwine their fingers with the other.

Marius tries again before they can escape. “I could give you a free pass for that goodbye sex?”

Tim grins and starts towing Edward toward the door. “That's just cause you want to join in isn't it?”

Marius doesn't reply but 'mischief' is sketched clearly across his features in big, bold letters. Edward takes the time to enjoy their banter before they finally exit the med bay.

***

As they step outside a screen appears embedded in the wall for Tim's sake. It displays a simplified map of the Aurora and has highlighted Raphaella and Ivy's positions, both of them apparently in the library.

“Next stop,” Tim says with a reassuring smile.

They find the ladies sitting together in one of the comfortable reading nooks dotted about. Ivy has her head laid in Raphaella's lap as she reads aloud for the two of them, Raph working on some tube-shaped invention.

Ivy snaps her book closed and sits up as the boys come to a stop before them, Raph having to quickly move the object out of the way so she doesn't hit her head.

Edward finds himself immediately squished between the two of them in a long hug, his arms crushed to his sides uncomfortably, but he couldn't be happier.

“Thank you, dears,” he mumbles against the top of someone's head.

“Of course, Eddy.” Ivy dismisses. “Anger is unnecessary here, only joy at what has been and sympathy for what is to come,” she says as she finally pulls away from him.

His short bark of laughter drips with sarcasm. “Yeah, tell that to Jonny.”

Raph steps back too and holds out the object she was working on. “For you,” she says with a smile.

Edward frowns in confusion but nonetheless accepts the apparent gift, holding it up in front of himself to inspect it. It is a roughly meter long cylinder wrapped in leather with an adjustable strap connecting the two ends. S.E. is etched into the top of the strap in gold. Raphaella reaches forward and pops a cap off one end, suddenly making it obvious what he is holding.

“Oh, a drafting tube! It’s beautiful, thank you!” He exclaims, pulling her into another hug.

Over her head he spots Tim’s frown. “It is but, you already have so many?” He takes it from Edward and flips it around in his hands, trying to determine if there is something special about it.

“Yes, he does. In fact, too many according to Ivy.” The librarian’s smile is tinged with mischief when Edward turns to her in question, still delighted at the gift. “She asked me a while ago if I could make something to fix that, so here we are! It’s not perfect yet but it’ll do what it needs for now. Long story short, it’ll store a near infinite number of maps for you, although I’ve yet to figure out a proper way to organize them, so for now it’ll just be convenient for keeping all of your papers safe while you move.”

Edward opens his arms again and Ivy steps back in, the ladies enjoying another embrace with their favourite cartographer. He presses kisses to the tops of both their heads. “Thank you. Both of you.”

***

Ivy and Raphaella try to insist that Edward doesn’t need to go, but Tim offers the solution that they come with and help pack as well, therefore meaning they can enjoy his company for as long as possible instead. So, the four of them return to Edward’s quarters.

Ashes and Toy have mostly reordered Edward’s clothes, collections, and other possessions by the time the others arrive, and so there isn’t too much to actually think about, the various crewmates instead allowing their quartermaster to distribute them about with their tasks. Soon enough, Marius and Nastya arrive too.

With this much of the crew about it’s not long before chaos ensues.

Edward sees it coming the moment Marius summons a violin and has about three seconds to duck before Tim launches himself across the room at the cacophonous doctor. Guns are drawn and bullets fly, and Edward laughs at the madness of his family. No matter the mess they’re making he doesn’t attempt to stop them as everyone else soon gets involved. Until Ashes inevitably pulls out a lighter and both Edward and Ivy sprint to stop them before any of the yet to be packed maps can catch alight.

“Alright! That’s probably enough!” Edward exclaims, holding the lighter high above the pyromaniac’s head and keeping an eye out for anymore they may be hiding. “Maybe a music break is in order then?” He suggests, grabbing his banjo and bass from their cases and handing the latter to Ashes.

The other’s calm down pretty quickly at his words and moments later Brian arrives too with the rest of their instruments and Illinois and her bags in tow. In most cases the individual quarters would be too small to hold everyone and their instruments, but with the space now mostly cleared there’s enough room for them to just about squeeze in, a few of them discovering the wonders of trying to play with someone else in their lap.

They spend a while playing mostly nothing, songs that haven’t been finished yet, or just messing about with new riffs, but they toy around with a few of the disparate tales too. Without Jonny around it’s nigh impossible to get through any of the full albums.

“Speaking of, where is the old buckaroo?” Florida asks after someone suggests a couple of High Noon songs. “Normally the music would have called him in by now, right?”

“Probably still sulking. The bastard,” Nastya replies without looking up, although Edward catches something else in her voice. Guilt? He doesn’t mention it, instead placing a palm on the floor where he sits.

“I Could Go Find Him Now?” TS asks.

Edward looks up as he comes back to himself, having just asked Aurora if he is nearby. “That would be lovely Toy, thank you. He’s in his own room, so yes,” he turns to Nastya, “Probably sulking.”

“It Is Probably a Good Idea To Order Me To Do So, Otherwise He Will Be Able To Tell Me To Leave Him Alone,” The Soldier suggests.

“Hmm, you’re right,” Ashes says from where they’re sitting on the bed, “Alright Soldier! Find Jonny and bring him back immediately!”

Edward would almost be embarrassed by the way he reacts to their commanding Quartermaster Voice if he didn’t know for a fact that there were others in the room who are in exactly the same position. The Toy gives a happy salute as it leaves the others to continue their playing.

Its return is audibly preceded by a lot of very despondent and very loud swearing from the cowboy himself. It appears in the doorway with Jonny held up by the scruff of his neck and kicking about with wild abandon. 

“Put me down you wooden piece of shit!” 

“At Once!” 

At that, it throws his flailing form into the room, closing the door behind itself as it steps in after him. He slides to a stop before Brian, who helps him to his feet. Brian pats his knee in invitation and Jonny sits down, still grumbling petulantly. 

With the whole crew finally collected the music is complete, and Jonny’s mood significantly improves once he can fall into another character, ever the showman. They don’t really stop playing for the rest of the trip, simply pausing between songs, or whenever their respective instrument isn’t needed, and continue the packing process.

So, Edward’s last moments with this family pass, finally, with joy.

***

Aurora alerts everyone when they’re a few minutes away from the station, so the lot of them split back up again and grab the things they need for when they make landfall, Brian returning to the bridge to request landing permission.

Edward tosses the last of the compactor containers into his pack and slings it, his new drafting tube, and Wyoming’s smaller bag over his back, Wyoming themself clambering up and onto his shoulders. 

“Ready pal?” She asks, patting the top of his head comfortingly.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replies with a bit of a forced smile.

He stoops down and grabs his instrument cases, one in each hand. And then, just as they feel the gentle jolt of the ship landing, the two of them set off to meet the others at the airlock. 

It isn’t a long walk, but the time doesn’t seem to work right, each of his footfalls hitting the floor too slowly, or too quickly, his arms swinging out of time with his body. Everything is set slightly to the left of what he knows. He breathes through it. 

***

They bundle out quickly, but Tim manages to wrangle everyone together before they can run off. 

“Alright you bastards, photo time!”

His announcement is met with mostly good-natured groans of protest as he collects some passing mortal to play photographer. Somehow, Edward finds himself squashed between nearly every body available, even one of Aurora’s ‘arms’ coming out to wrap around him.

And he couldn’t feel more loved.

Tim bounds forward once the shot is complete, snatching the camera back from the passer by and inspecting the polaroid.

He holds it up in triumph, “Perfect!” Before bounding back to Edward, “The album if you please, my love?”

Edward hands it over without question and watches as his giddy partner carefully files the image away. He takes a final breath and turns back to the rest of the crew. 

“Thank you, all of you. I don’t think I need to say how much everything you have done means to me,” his smile is drenched in self-deprecation, “it’s obvious really. You quite literally changed my life forever. You made my eternity bearable, and you gave me the chance to live it.”

He almost doesn’t notice Tim slipping back in line with the rest of them, but suddenly it’s a standoff, with the cartographer and biographer on one side, and the crew as a whole on the other.

Jonny is the one to speak up, and Edward can Feel the way he drops into yet another persona. This one, the frontman, the face who speaks for the group whenever they face an Outsider. Edward didn’t see it properly the first time they met, but he knows now, and he anticipates the clench in his heart when he realises, he is the stranger. But it doesn’t come, acceptance finally having swallowed him. He reels for a moment and almost doesn’t catch the first mate’s words.

“You have other tales to tell now, bandit.”

Edward doesn’t nod, doesn’t speak, but his acceptance is clear anyway. These are all the words he will get, and he knows they are all he needs. He looks back at the crew of The Aurora, catching each of their eyes and their silent goodbyes.

And then he turns away into the bustling crowd of the station, whistling a new tune.

***


End file.
